


I want to know you

by adamantine



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Bottom Keith (Voltron), First Time, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Size Difference, Top Shiro (Voltron), takes place after S7 but in the real timeline where s8 doesn't exist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-29
Updated: 2019-07-29
Packaged: 2020-07-25 11:55:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20025406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adamantine/pseuds/adamantine
Summary: Shiro puts a finger over his lips and gestures at the nurse’s station, the final obstacle to their escape. Keith nods in understanding. If they want to make it out of here without getting caught they need to be stealthy. All of Keith’s training with the Blades and Shiro’s teenage escapades sneaking around after curfew have been leading up to this moment.OR: The one where Shiro breaks Keith out of prison (the Garrison Hospital) to have a little fun.





	I want to know you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [azimutal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/azimutal/gifts).

> lazuritecrown drew a beautiful [keith in a harness](https://twitter.com/lazuritecrown/status/1143656489200041984) for me (and sent it to me!!!!!!!!!!!!!) so I ran with her [virgin keith headcanons](https://twitter.com/lazuritecrown/status/1152085215805923328) and a few other 📯-y tweets as a sort of thank you 😇

Shiro puts a finger over his lips and gestures at the nurse’s station, the final obstacle to their escape. Keith nods in understanding. If they want to make it out of here without getting caught they need to be stealthy. All of Keith’s training with the Blades and Shiro’s teenage escapades sneaking around after curfew have been leading up to this moment.

They crouch low to the ground and make their way silently past the station to the door at the end of the hallway.

This is the moment of truth. If there’s someone on the other side of the door they’re done for. If the door makes too much noise they’re done for. If a nurse looks up from the station they’re done for.

Shiro pushes the door and sends a quick prayer to the universe.

No one is on the other side. The universe is listening to him.

He lets Keith out first, following behind him with careful steps and slowly closes the door behind him. They’re not free yet, but this is the easier part.

“Put this on.” He gives Keith his jacket. It’s new—at least to Shiro—haggled from a green Alien selling “Earth Goods” near the refugee camp. The brown leather covers the conspicuous orange and white hospital shirt, making Keith stand out significantly less. The pants and slippers they can’t do anything about; hopefully, no one will look too closely. At least Keith’s head wrappings are gone though Shiro wouldn’t be sneaking him out of the hospital if they weren’t. He’s not _completely _reckless.

“Where are we going?” Keith asks and _oh—_Shiro isn’t ready for what he sees. Keith is _swimming_ in his jacket; only a tiny glimpse of his fingers can be seen at the sleeves.

“Cute,” Shiro says. He’s suddenly very glad he hasn’t modified the sleeves for his prosthetic arm yet. What was annoying only an hour earlier as he struggled to tie it out of the way is now the greatest blessing his eyes have ever feasted on.

“Huh?”

“Oh–uh, to tell you the truth, I haven’t planned that far.”

“Did you seriously break me out of a hospital spontaneously?” Keith asks.

Shiro shrugs. It’s not totally spontaneous. He’s been noticing for days that Keith feels ready to leave the hospital but no one wants to take the responsibility of releasing him. As the universe’s only Galra-human hybrid, there’s no standard for what’s normal and healthy for him. They have to guess and guessing isn’t something any of the Garrison’s doctors like to do. They’d rather keep Keith under observation for a little longer, scrutinizing his biology. Shiro knows a little about how that feels.

“You wanted to get out of there, right? So, I got you out.”

Keith stares at him incredulously, his lips parting in silent wonder. He hides his face behind his hands, but not before Shiro can see the blush forming on his cheeks.

“Yeah, I did. _Shiro,_” he says with a whine. “I can’t believe you. Let’s get out of here.”

Shiro smiles and takes his hand.

Getting out of the hospital is uneventful. Shiro takes full advantage of having an arm unattached to his body and uses it to help them slip past the hospital’s staff unnoticed. By the time they’re out, Shiro is certain rumors of the hospital being haunted are going to spread because of the havoc he’s caused. It’s worth it in his opinion. Especially when his legs takes them down a familiar hallway, to a familiar hangar.

Shiro isn’t expecting his old hoverbike to be waiting for him (and certainly not Keith’s—that one is lost in the desert somewhere) considering he’s been legally dead for almost six years. All of his belongings were carted off a long time ago (he’s not even sure to who—he hasn’t asked) but the Garrison have their own standard-issue hoverbikes available for use. They’re not as nice as Shiro or Keith’s hoverbikes, but beggars can’t be choosers. He’ll gladly take anything if it means the freedom of flying in the open skies of the desert.

He’s surprised when Keith doesn’t seek out a hoverbike of his own but instead climbs on the same one as Shiro.

“Don’t want to race?” Shiro asks curiously.

“You know—just got out of the hospital. Probably shouldn’t be too reckless.” He wraps his arms his around Shiro and presses his chest against Shiro’s back. It’s not a small hoverbike. There’s plenty of space for Keith to sit without a single point of contact. Shiro grins.

“Of course. I’ll fly nice and slow for you.”

“Don’t you dare.”

Shiro speeds out of the hangar, dodging every barrier and obstacle keeping him from reaching the open desert, as Keith whoops in delight.

✨

They stop at an abandoned convenience store at the edge of the township Keith grew up in. The place has been looted but it isn’t cleaned out. There’s still plenty left on the shelves, albeit he’s not sure he would take a chance on some of the perishables.

Shiro cleans a layer of dust off from a stack of magazines and checks the date. A little after the invasion, which is what he expected. It’s strange though, seeing the year listed because it feels wrong. He forgets sometimes that the Paladins lost so much time—that he _especially_ lost so much time. The date on the magazine belongs to the future but actually, it’s the past. Sometimes it’s hard to wrap his head around it.

Shiro puts down the magazine and grabs a shopping bag to fill with what he thinks might be helpful for a night in the desert.

“Shouldn’t that have gone bad?” Shiro asks as Keith grabs a can of chips from the back of a shelf.

“You’d be surprised how long this stuff lasts,” Keith says, shoving the chips into a knapsack. “It might be stale but it’s not going to make you sick.”

Not a ringing endorsement but Shiro figures if anything is too spoiled Keith will have enough sense not to eat it. Shiro fills his bag with more practical goods. The only things in the hoverbike’s storage compartment are a compass, map, and a few water bottles, which is a good thing because the looters didn’t leave anything to drink behind.

Stocked for adventure, Shiro flies them into the wilderness. The sun begins to set, the sky turning orange and red. Shiro parks near an outcropping of rocks so they watch it. Keith stands next to him as they lean against the hoverbike.

As beautiful as the sunset is, he finds himself drawn to Keith instead. The curve of his lips, the sharp outline of his jaw, the strong brows above his eyes—Shiro can’t help but stare at it all. He feels so lucky to see Keith with his own eyes—as much as anything about this body qualifies as his own—and not from Black’s eyes or from the strange world of the astral plane. This is Keith without any filters in his real physical form, alive and breathing. Shiro can reach out and touch him if he wants. Feel his heartbeat, the soft strands of his hair, the curve of his—

“Shiro, um, hi?” Keith’s voice is strained as he turns away from the last vestiges of the sun.

“Hi?”

“Your hand,” Keith says, nodding behind him to where Shiro’s prosthetic arm has nestled underneath the jacket.

“Oh!” Shiro flies his arm back so fast he nearly hits himself in the face with it. He’s still getting used to controlling it. If he lets his mind wander the arm will drift to the shape of his thoughts, going to where he’s thinking of. Like to Keith’s ass. “Sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize. Just.” He shakes his head, embarrassed. “We should find somewhere to camp. I know a few places, assuming they weren’t destroyed.”

Keith navigates them to an alcove in the rocks, a place where he’s camped before in that year he wandered the desert listening to a feeling he couldn’t explain. When Shiro thinks of Keith lost and alone, shut out from the place Shiro placed his faith in to take care of Keith, he thinks maybe he’ll never return to the Garrison, that instead the two of them will live out the rest of their days in the wild or maybe space backpack across the universe with the wolf (and Krolia’s blessing) in whatever spaceship they can find. Of course, there’s no future ahead of them if they don’t win this war and they can’t do that without the Garrison’s help.

As the light fades the stars begin to fill the sky with familiar constellations. Shiro builds a fire and sets out the blankets he stole from an emergency kit at the convenience store. The night is mild so it’s not for the warmth but the comfort, the fire a source of light and the blankets a place to sleep that isn’t the bare ground. By some miracle (or the power of canning and preservatives) the chips Keith stole are barely stale. The salty junk food taste is nostalgic but bittersweet. The planet he grew up on is changed irreversibly; it’s not home anymore. But even unchanged Earth wouldn’t be him home. Home is Keith leaning against him, the top of his hair tickling his neck. Home is Keith’s heart beating against his hand. Home is Keith’s lips, gentle and sweet, finding his.

Being together like this is new for them. A few stolen kisses and wandering hands are all they’ve managed in the aftermath of Sendak’s battle. This is the first time they’ve kissed not inside of a hospital.

Keith shrugs off Shiro’s jacket, leaving him in only his hospital-issued clothing. The shirt and pants set are more like pajamas than true clothing. Thin and meant for wearing in bed. Shiro pushes up Keith’s shirt and feels the warm skin underneath. This much he’s done before but anything further they haven’t gotten away with yet. There’s only so much time before their moments of privacy are invaded: by a nurse, by a visitor, by Shiro’s increasingly hectic schedule.

“Can I?” Shiro traces the waistband of Keith’s pants.

Keith nods. “Please.”

Shiro’s hand slips past the elastic to the jut of Keith’s hips. Dying has given him an extra appreciation for touch. His senses were different in the astral plane. Nothing was real there. But this is. He wants to touch and feel every part of Keith.

“Shiro.” Keith’s breathing is ragged, from the kissing or from where Shiro’s hand has finally reached, he doesn’t know. “Wait,” he says nervously.

Shiro pulls his hand back and keeps still. He doesn’t want to do anything Keith doesn’t want him to.

“I found something at the store.” Keith’s pulls out a bottle from his knapsack of stolen items. The words on the label are bright and unfaded, almost shouting at Shiro in their boldness.

“Oh.” Shiro feels himself shutting down. He doesn’t want to shut down. He doesn’t _mean_ to. But his soft wanderings feel quaint in the face of what Keith’s holding. He hasn’t been with anyone in so long. He’s never been with anyone, _period_, in this body. He wants all of Keith but he’s afraid.

“We don’t have to use it,” Keith says, setting the bottle down in the face of Shiro’s silence.

“No, it’s not that. It’s—let’s see what happens?” he says lamely.

A little of Keith’s shine dulls but he nods. Shiro feels guilty over it but he doesn’t know how to articulate how afraid he is of messing this up—messing _them_ up with his floundering. He wants everything to be perfect.

They go back to kissing and that makes him feel less like his heart is in his throat. This he can do. This he isn’t afraid of. But the problem with kissing is that it’s not enough. His traitorous body craves more, especially when he feels how hard Keith is through the thin fabric of his hospital pants. Shiro lets his hand wander underneath the elastic and this time Keith doesn’t stop him.

Keith buckles into his hand when Shiro reaches his cock. His shirt is riding up; Shiro uses his prosthetic hand to push it further until he can see Keith’s pert nipples. He should just get the shirt off Keith entirely but there’s something alluring about the way the shirt bunches up at his collarbone. 

Shiro sucks on a nipple and makes lazy strokes around Keith’s cock, fingers tracing a vein before grabbing the head. Keith whines and fucks into his grip which makes Shiro feel like he’s stepped directly into the campfire._ Fuck._ How is he supposed to deal with Keith grinding into his grip unabashedly. The little half-aborted movements are stupidly hot. 

The bottle feels less daunting. He uses his prosthetic hand to grab it.

“Keith.” He pulls his left hand out of Keith’s pants, intending to return it but something gets lost in translation. He can see the confusion and hurt on Keith’s face and he doesn’t think sticking his hand down Keith’s pants again is going to solve it. They need to talk, as much Shiro wants to avoid this particular conversation.

“Hey,” Shiro says, floating the bottle of lube in Keith’s line of vision. “I was just getting this.”

“Ah,” Keith says. “I’m sorry. I’m just—I don’t know. I’ve never done this before. But I want to, _so much_, with you.”

“Never done what? A handjob?” Shiro asks crassly. His heart hammers in his chest.

“No—I mean yes, but. That’s not what I meant. I haven’t done anything.”

Shiro blinks, uncomprehending. “When you say anything, do you mean—_anything_?”

“Shiro, you were my first kiss.”

Shiro drops the bottle of lube on Keith’s bare chest. It slides down into his lap as he sits up, the colorful words swirling in Shiro’s vision.

The whole world is spinning, Shiro thinks. They’re having an earthquake. No, that’s not right. The ground isn’t shaking.

“I thought—I thought you knew,” Keith says and he sounds afraid in a way he shouldn’t be.

“I had no idea,” Shiro says honestly.

“Oh. I thought it was obvious.” He plays with the hem of his shirt, the material down and covering him up once more.

“Why would it be obvious?”

“Well, when we first kissed I obviously didn’t know what I was doing for starters.” It’s true that their first kisses weren’t technically perfect, but Shiro wasn’t really rating them for skill. He could barely process what was happening with the way his emotions were on overdrive.

“I thought you were just nervous.” _Like me,_ Shiro doesn’t add.

“I am nervous. I don’t know what I’m doing here, Shiro. I’ve never kissed anyone before you. I’m freaking out right now because I don’t know what I should be doing. How I’m supposed to act.”

“You act however you want to, Keith.”

“I’m trying. I’m trying, but.” But Shiro keeps giving him mixed signals. Pulling away when he tries to show Shiro what he wants.

“It’s my first time too,” Shiro blurts out, “in this body at least. You’re not the only one that’s freaking out. I keep thinking I’m going to mess everything up. I just want it to perfect but that’s stupid. I’m being stupid.” He’s not going to ruin his relationship with Keith if the first time they have sex isn’t mindblowing.

The tension in his body melts away.

“So what you’re saying,” Keith says with a twinkle in his eye, “is that we’re both virgins.”

“Yes?” Shiro answers, tilting his head in thought.

A beautiful sound fills the desert night—the sound of Keith’s laugher. He throws his head back and falls down onto the blanket. Watching him makes Shiro laugh too. It really is absurd, isn’t it? The pair of them, Keith in his orange and white hospital pajamas and Shiro in his mismatched too tight clothing because that was all he could find being sold in a tent outside of the Garrison. Keith is nervous because he’s a virgin—which Shiro didn’t even realize—and Shiro is nervous because he can’t even comprehend the time it’s been since he’s kissed a person that isn’t Keith.

“I guess since we’re both new to this,” Shiro says, grinning, “we’ll just have to figure it out as we go. If that’s okay with you?”

“I’m _up_ for it.” Keith makes a poor attempt at waggling his eyebrows.

“I’m sorry, was that a pun?” Shiro asks, aghast. “I guess I’m really _rubbing off_ on you.”

Keith groans with his head turned to the side and Shiro takes the opening to latch onto his neck. Shiro sucks and bites the skin there, marking Keith up. His lizard brain is taking over now that his nerves are under control which is bad news for Keith’s unblemished neck. Keith grabs onto him, pulling at his hair and letting out sweet sounds when Shiro's scrap at his skin. Keith likes it—_a lot._ It's unexpected. Shiro thinks about the sharp teeth he once saw on Keith and the sharp teeth the Galra have and wonders if there's something instinctual to Keith's reaction. Shiro never considered how Keith's Galra ancestry might come into play. How being with Keith might be different from what he's used to or expecting. He finds that instead of being afraid of screwing things up he's excited to learn all about Keith. Every new discovery is thrilling.

He bites at the most vulnerable parts of Keith’s neck, no longer intending to leave any marks but to test if he’s right. Keith claws at Shiro, scrambling to hold onto anything. The sound he makes is beautiful, a new sound that Shiro is thrilled to get out of him. He backs off to see Keith’s face and _oh,_ Keith’s eyes are yellow.

The color fades as he catches his breath and Shiro doesn’t comment on it. He’s not sure if Keith can tell when his eyes change—does the world look the same to him or is it different, the colors sharper, objects brighter?

“You liked that,” Shiro comments.

“Yeah?” Keith says, panting. “Why, was I not supposed to?”

“You’re allowed to like anything.”

Shiro pulls Keith into his lap. The orange shirt finally comes off, unceremoniously tossed to the side. Keith is lean and sharp like the luxite blade he fights with. Deadly if he wants to be. But in Shiro’s hands, he turns soft and pliant. His thorns burn away.

Little whimpers escape from Keith as Shiro brushes the knobs of his spine. A Galra thing? A Keith thing? He doesn’t know but he figures it’s irrelevant in the end. He just wants to make Keith feel good.

He settles a hand and then another on Keith’s slim waist. _Oh._

His hands wrap completely around Keith.

_Oh._

The prosthetic arm is big—much bigger than his real arm—and sometimes feels clunky, taking up too much space. But right now it doesn’t feel that way. It feels like something else, something he can’t name. It makes him lightheaded. He’s never been much larger than a partner before. Not like this. He’s never thought of Keith as small either. He takes up so much space in Shiro’s mind, a bright sun that fills his vision. But he _is_ small. Smaller than Shiro, which is the only type of small that matters.

“Shiro? What is it?”

Shiro is worrying him again. Sitting too still, shellshocked from the discovery of what their size difference does to him.

“My hands can fit around your waist,” Shiro says. He sounds a little out of breath.

“Okay?”

“I’m just a little surprised.”

“A good surprised?”

Shiro nods. Definitely a good surprised.

Keith hums and tugs at Shiro’s shirt. It joins the hospital shirt on the ground. Shiro tries to hide the nerves that spring back up with the loss of his shirt—his armor against the world. His scars, the missing arm, the port in his shoulder—what does he look like to Keith? He wants to hide but there’s nowhere to go.

Keith watches him, his eyes dark, before reaching out to touch his chest. He grabs the muscle there and squeezes, almost curiously. The touch is unexpected; Shiro can’t help the sigh that escapes from him. He’s not sure if it feels _good_ but it’s far from feeling bad. He thinks he might like anything if Keith is the one doing it.

“Mmm, Shiro?” He kneads at Shiro’s chest, not looking up, The dark curtain of hair covers his face.

“Yes?” Shiro asks.

“I want you inside me.” He tilts his chin up boldly as if daring Shiro to challenge him. As if Shiro would. He wants Keith in any and every way.

“Are you sure? There are a lot of other things we can do. We don’t have to rush.”

“I’m sure,” Keith says, firm. “I’ve wanted this since I was fifteen.”

The words nearly make Shiro’s heart go out. “Keith!” He knows Keith had a crush on him as a teenager (Keith amitted to it not long after they got together) but in his mind, those feelings weren’t—they weren’t _this_. But that’s not fair. Shiro was fifteen once too and he didn’t have the feelings of a child at that age. Not even close.

“What? I’m just telling you the truth. I’m not rushing anything. I feel like I’ve been waiting forever.”

“I would say you’re going to be the death of me but even if I die you’re going to bring back, aren’t you?”

Keith frowns, serious. “Of course. I told you, didn’t I? As many times as it takes.”

Shiro kisses the frown off Keith’s face and places him gently on the blanket. “Off.” He waits for Keith to lift his hips before sliding off the bright orange pants, along with Keith’s underwear. Keith’s cock is flushed against his stomach; it’s the prettiest cock Shiro has ever seen. 

Shiro wants to taste him, so he does.

Keith cries out, a half-formed word that might be Shiro’s name. Shiro licks down the length of his shaft and cups his balls, marveling at the way Keith arches his back. He’s addicted to the honesty of Keith’s reactions. He wants more of them.

He pours a generous amount of lube over his left hand and uses his right to push Keith’s legs apart before bringing it back to spread back one of Keith’s cheeks.

“Beautiful,” he says sincerely when Keith’s little hole is in view. Everything about Keith is beautiful and this is no exception.

Keith is a little too tense, which makes Shiro wonder if this is his first time. “Have you ever done this before?”

“I told you already, you’re my first.”

“I know that. But have you done this to yourself?” Shiro teases his rim, waiting for an answer.

Keith nods. “But—it’s been a while.”

“You need to relax,” Shiro says and kisses the base of Keith’s cock. Some of Keith’s tension goes away. Shiro licks and sucks along the length until Keith is relaxed enough that he can slip a finger in without hurting him. Keith jumps a little at the intrusion. It doesn’t quite feel good yet to him. Shiro keeps going, slowly working him open. He wants to make this as easy for Keith as possible. The sound of his slick fingers in Keith’s hole is obscene in the quiet desert night.

Keith coils and lets out a loud whine from deep inside his throat.

“Shiro?” Keith questions.

Shiro pushes against the same spot. Keith nearly leaps out of his skin.

“Again,” Keith demands. Shiro is happy to oblige.

He keeps going until Keith tells him to stop. His face flushed and his cock leaking, Shiro thinks he must be close. Shiro wants to see him come but he holds back, waiting for Keith’s orders.

“Need you in me.” His eyes are bright with stars.

Shiro kisses him as he gets ready to push into Keith’s tight hole. The universe narrows to just them. Nothing else exists. The point where they connect is the answer to everything.

“Relax,” Shiro says again. Keith breathes slowly.

Shiro bottoms out, amazed at the tightness. The first and only one to know what it feels like to have Keith squeezing around him.

“I’m going to move.”

“Please.”

Shiro starts to thrust his hips, pushing in and out of that tight space. Keith moves with him, crossing his legs around Shiro’s back for leverage. It takes a while before Shiro finds that spot again but when he does Keith’s eyes go yellow, his irises a bright purple. Shiro angles himself to hit that spot over and over.

“Good.” Keith’s legs slip down. He can’t hold them up anymore. “It’s so good.” His words are almost a question like he can’t quite believe what he’s feeling. His pretty face shines with sweat.

Shiro has never seen a lovelier sight than Keith writhing underneath him, his cock bouncing as Shiro fucks him. Gorgeous, Keith is gorgeous. His expression speaks of bliss. Shiro grabs Keith's hips to pull him up until Keith’s ass is in Shiro’s lap while his head is on the ground. The new angle is perfect for hitting the spot that makes Keith fall apart. It’s not long before Keith comes, messy and without warning. Like everything about Keith, the action is beautiful and honest. Shiro is lucky, so lucky to be the only one privileged enough to see it.

“Keith.” He tries to put everything he feels into saying Keith’s name. “Keith.” _Thank you._ “Keith.” _You’re everything to me._ “Keith.” _I love you._

“I love you too.” Keith’s smile is wonderfully soft. He cups Shiro’s jaw, tender and caring. Shiro can’t hold himself back for another second. His self-control isn’t strong enough.

Shiro spills inside of Keith. Keith makes a delicious little noise.

When Shiro comes down from his high he pulls out and rests half on the blanket and half on Keith. “Sorry.”

“Mmm, what for?” Keith traces a pattern on Shiro’s bicep.

“I didn’t ask if I could come inside you.” Keith blinks up at him uncomprehending. “It isn’t, uh, polite,” he adds.

“Oh. I liked it though.”

Shiro groans. Keith’s honestly is really going to kill him. His heart can’t take it.

There’s so much more he wants them to do together. So many firsts he wants them to share. 

Shiro swings his left arm around Keith and pulls him tight. The campfire needs tending and they need to clean up but for a little while he wants to stay like this, Keith’s warm body tucked against him.

✨

“Mmm.” A wet, insistent tongue licks Shiro’s face and what it lacks in finesse it makes up for in enthusiasm—there’s only one problem. “Keith, we need to talk about your morning breath. This is bad.”

Keith coughs and the sound is farther away than it should be. “That’s not me.”

Shiro opens his eyes. The wolf, not Keith, licks his nose.

“Ah.” With a little effort, he manages to sit up and stop the wolf from attacking him any further by distracting him with a few good pets to the head.

“Also, my mom is here.”

Shiro turns his head slowly to the presence looming a short distance away from the alcove.

“Ah,” Shiro says, and his voice barely squeaks.

Krolia stands with her arms crossed as she leans against the Garrison hoverbike Shiro commandeered. The red tank top she’s sporting shows off her impressive biceps and he doesn’t know how she’s found a pair of jeans that fit her but she has (though he’s pretty sure they’re not supposed to fit like capris). But the most intimidating part of her ensemble is the black aviators that make it impossible to see her eyes. She might be glaring at him or she might be gazing fondly at a particularly fascinating rock. There’s no way to know.

At least he had the foresight to put his boxers back on before going to sleep and someone (Keith? He hopes it was Keith) covered him with the second emergency blanket.

“You stole my son,” Krolia says flatly.

“Mom, I told you didn’t steal me. I willingly went with him.”

Shiro’s stomach does a funny little dip when he notices that Keith is wearing his jacket again.

“Regardless. You ran off with my injured son while he was still recovering.”

“I’m completely fine.”

“You didn’t tell anyone where you two were going.”

“Didn’t really need to. The wolf found us just fine. Didn’t you boy?” Keith pets the wolf under his chin.

Krolia sighs. “You have one varg—_hour_ to get Keith back to the Garrison. Do you understand?”

“Yes ma’am,” Shiro answers seriously.

Krolia whistle for the wolf. He trots over to her side and they disappear in a flash of light.

“I thought I was going to die,” Shiro says, doubling over to catch his breath.

“Relax, she was just messing with you. She was actually playing some video game when I woke up.”

“Video game?”

“Yeah, I think Pidge gave it to her. You play as a villager or something and run a farm? I don’t really get it.”

The incredible thing is he can imagine it. He’s gotten to know Krolia from his frequent hospital visits. She has a lighter side just like Keith that not many get to see.

“We should head ba—” Shiro’s words are swallowed by Keith’s eager tongue. While Shiro was distracted picturing Krolia running a virtual farm, Keith wormed his way into Shiro’s lap. Unbelievable. 

“_Keith._ We have an hour.”

“It doesn’t take that long to get back to the Garrison. Not if you fly fast enough.”

A clever hand slips into Shiro’s boxers.

“_Keith._”

“What?” Keith asks innocently as he grips Shiro’s cock.

“I can’t believe it. I took your virginity and now you’re just completely corrupted.”

Keith lets out a tiny huff of amusement. “Are you implying your dick corrupted me?”

“Hmm.” Thinking of a clever comeback is difficult when Keith is jerking him off.

“Maybe _I_ corrupted _you_. You said it yourself, this body was totally pure.”

Not Shiro’s _exact_ words but he’s not going to argue about it. “It’s a mutual corruption then.”

Keith nods and smiles—his grin more than a little devilish—and pushes Shiro flat on his back.

In the end, they get back to the Garrison without a moment to spare. The consequence of their little adventure is Shiro getting banned from Keith’s hospital room without supervision but considering Keith is released the following afternoon, it’s not much of a punishment.

**Author's Note:**

> hey, it wasn’t angst this time!


End file.
